


Caravan

by flashrevolver



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating will change, Self-indugent, You don’t really have to know anything about fallout to read this fic, fallout new vegas au, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashrevolver/pseuds/flashrevolver
Summary: The paths of a retired NCR soldier and an exiled raider cross on the way to New Vegas.“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Jesse retorts. “If anything it seems like you need one. I saved your goddamn life—if I wanted to kill you I’d have just left you to rot. If I wanted to kill you I could do it right now.”Gabriel growls, low in his throat.“And what do I get in return?” he asks heavily, glaring right through this Jesse’s eyes.“I watch your back, you watch mine.”





	Caravan

**Author's Note:**

> 4 of Clubs – Beware of dishonesty or deceit; avoid blind acceptance of others.

Gabriel knows better than to travel alone. Three years as a sergeant in the NCR army, six years as a Ranger, and five in the infantry—he knows how to travel in the Wasteland. He knows traveling alone is a death sentence.

The first burning sting to the back of his leg reminds him of that. The sting to the back of his neck makes his muscles tense, and he falls to the dirt.

Cazadores don’t make a sound until they’re too close for their prey to escape. 

He’s close enough to see the head of that tacky Novac dinosaur in the distance, but the fact that he’s going to die renders that completely useless. The numbness of cazador venom travels up his body, tremors wracking his form. His mind would normally wrestle with profanity-laden tactics to look for a way out, but his head relaxes along with his muscles. His life doesn’t flash before his eyes. It’s almost a peaceful descent into unconsciousness, his skin burning, bile rising uselessly in his throat, the edges of his vision creeping forward until there’s no light left.

 

He wakes to the sound of a dog whining. When he opens his eyes, he’s in a hotel room. The light slanting through the blinds cuts across his vision and he turns his head away, groaning. All at once he realizes he shouldn’t be here, and that he doesn’t know where he is.

Shooting straight up in the bed, Gabe scans the area for his bag, his guns. The room is empty save for a dirty white dog scratching at the door and a few emptied whiskey bottles on the bedside table. A dull pain throbs through his body and he remembers. The cazadores, Novac. The door opens and sunlight pours in behind a silhouette of a slim body and a hat.

“I’ll be damned,” the hat says. “You’re awake.”

The door closes, and Gabe is silent when a man steps forward and the dog follows him.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, setting bags down and taking a seat at the table in the corner. It’s still just a hint too dark in the room for Gabe to make out his features.

“Why am I here?” he responds. “And who the hell are you?”

The man in the corner chuckles and flicks on the lamp in the corner.

“You’re here because you were stupid enough to stumble into a cazador nest, and I’m the man who saved your life out of the kindness of my heart.”

Gabe scowls and pulls the blankets back. He looks fine, no swelling or bruising.

“Least you could say is ‘thanks’,” the man says, humor in his voice. “You had quite a haul on you. Would’a been easy to leave you behind and jack your guns.”

“Where are my guns?”

“They’re locked up in the bathroom. Couldn’t have you waking up and taking off without saying goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Gabe spits, rising to his feet. “I’ll take my guns now.”

The man with the hat laughs. 

“You gotta be the least grateful sonofabitch I ever met. You’d be dead and festering with Cazador eggs right about now if I hadn’t helped you.”

“And instead I’m in a shitty hotel room with a flea-ridden mutt. Oh, and a dog. Unlock my guns.”

“Not a morning person, are you?”

A bottle flies towards him and he catches it. It’s water. He takes a deep breath and joins the man at the table. Now that he’s closer, he can see that this man is hardly more than a boy. His features are quietly soft, as though he’s spent time trying to harden them but hasn’t grown into his scowl. Locks of ragged brown hair frame his face.

“My name is Reyes,” he strains in a pseudo-polite tone. “What’s your name?”

“McCree,” the man says, grinning genuinely. “You got a first name, Reyes?”

“Gabe.”

“Jesse.”

A long silence passes between them—almost a challenge. Jesse’s nails tap on the table while his other hand scratches the white dog’s ear.

“I’m not tryin’ to hold you hostage,” he says eventually, eyes glued to the table. “I just have a proposal for you, and if you say no I’ll get out of your hair.”

Gabe sits back in his chair, crossing his arms impatiently. 

“What exactly is your angle here, Jesse?” he asks, spitting the name like an insult. “I’d be hard-pressed to find someone willing to save a stranger out in those wastes, let alone one who didn’t want something in return.” 

“You’re headed to New Vegas,” Jesse responds impatiently. “And so am I.”

Gabriel doesn’t bother asking how he knows that. It’s a 98 in 100 chance that any given wanderer is headed to New Vegas, especially ones who are traveling up Highway 95.

“I’m not a bodyguard. And I’m not going to travel with someone I don’t trust.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Jesse retorts. “If anything it seems like you need one. I saved your goddamn life—if I wanted to kill you I’d have just left you to rot. If I wanted to kill you I could do it right now.”

Gabriel growls, low in his throat. 

“And what do I get in return?” he asks heavily, glaring right through this Jesse’s eyes.

“I watch your back, you watch mine,” the man replies, his tone leaving the statement open-ended. He’s quiet for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue not coming as he traces blank shapes on the table with his finger.

“And? But? Spit the rest out.”

“I’m,” he starts, and stops. Before Gabe can process it, the man is creeping around to his side of the table and dropping to his knees. 

“Get up,” Gabe says, and a hand comes forward, sliding up his thigh. 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Jesse whispers, voice low and unsure. There’s a modest blush splayed across his tender cheeks. “Anything.”

Gabe knocks his hand away and shoves him back, hard.

“You think I’m a goddamn fool?” he asks, anger sharpening the words. “You think I’m gonna say yes just because you offer to roll over for me? Is this how you usually get what you want?”

Jesse’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he scrambles to his feet.

“It’s worked for me so far,” he says, the air of confidence from before thinly masking his shame. “You’d understand why if you dropped your prude act long enough to see.”

He sits back down.

“Prude act,” Gabe chuckles, and then schools his face back into something serious. “Look, kid. We can travel together. Fine. If you get in my way, if you mouth off, we’re done. And if you even think about crossing me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jesse is silent, looking Gabe dead in the eye. 

“I won’t,” he says, and Gabe almost thinks he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! comments and kudos inspire me to keep writing, so if you want to see this continued, pls let me know you liked it


End file.
